


Something Beautiful

by orphan_account



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 14:32:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 16,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2551055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 30 Day OTP Challenge by Durante from DeviantArt for my ultimate OTP, Nezushi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1: Holding Hands

Nezumi understood the significance of small gestures. As an actor he used the most miniscule of motions to create emotions as strong as betrayal, anguish, and love. He held the entire audience in his palm with no more than a wink or a half-smirk.

Even more than that, his very survival depended on the small indications in human behavior. Nezumi learned that twitches of fingers and turns of torsos could predict a man’s attack before his expression or words would, and as early as twelve years old, he started to anticipate such shifts. He watched every person he encountered for the first signs of hostility, and this awareness kept him alive.

Shion did not seem to understand this simple concept. He accepted too many things at face value, and he trusted Rikiga and Inukashi far too soon. Even though Nezumi had known Inukashi for years, he still kept him at a business acquaintance distance.

Even after Shion’s first chaotic visit to the West Block bazaar, he still smiled at shopkeepers and nodded politely to passersby if not a bit more cautious than before. Nezumi made sure to stalk forward with a purpose, confident and intimidating but attracting no more attention than necessary. Shion at least wore the beanie to cover his striking hair, but he still knew subtlety as well as he knew cruelty.

Nezumi would never admit it, but this was part of the reason why he insisted on assisting Shion with the shopping when he could. He claimed not to trust the naïve boy with the money, and though there was some honesty in that, he mostly feared for Shion’s fate with the cleaners and prostitutes when Nezumi wasn’t there to protect him. Sure, he supposedly left Shion alone in the bazaar to prove a point, but Nezumi had hovered in the shadows then even when Shion appeared to be by himself. He showed up in time to fend off the prostitute, hadn’t he?

So while Shion mulled over which piece of bread sported the least amount of mold, smiling at the unamused shopkeeper the entire time, Nezumi kept an eye on the crowd. He watched for those small tells that gave away their masters’ intentions without their permission.

Most citizens were too frail to pose much of threat, but Nezumi spotted an old friend in an alley positioned with a perfect view of Shion. She wore the same bright lipstick as she had that day, and she watched Shion’s bobbing beanie as he spoke with far too much ill-conceived fascination.

Nezumi narrowed his eyes at Shion’s obliviousness to the prostitute’s attentions, but he was far from surprised.

Rather than alert the kid, Nezumi only took Shion’s hand as they shuffled to the next booth, one for rotting meat. Shion turned his scarlet eyes to Nezumi inquisitively, but Nezumi acted as if the gesture was ordinary, and the other voiced no questions save for how much meat Nezumi wanted for tonight.

Nezumi barely remembered his reply, but the image of the prostitute’s disdain burned into his mind with smug satisfaction. Yes, small gestures told everything, and Nezumi’s grasp on Shion’s hand relayed plenty.

_“That boy belongs to me.”_


	2. Day 2: Cuddling Somewhere

Sharing a bed didn’t bother Shion. When he and his mother moved to Lost Town, he had gotten used to coexisting in small spaces with other people. He even found something cozy and comforting in the close proximity.

So Shion didn’t mind the single bed in Nezumi’s room. He would not dare complain when Nezumi offered him so much already, and Shion didn’t feel the desire to anyway. If this meant he could get closer to Nezumi and perhaps learn more about the mysterious aura that surrounded him, then sharing a bed was just fine.

Nezumi did not seem to feel the same way. He acknowledged that the couch was too short even for Shion though Shion was not entirely convinced that he was the shorter of the two of them. Nezumi claimed to be too practical to have a problem with sharing the bed, for he valued survival above all else, and survival demanded that they use the same mattress right now.

Nevertheless, Shion could see the hesitation in Nezumi’s dark grey eyes when he agreed to it.

“I can sleep on the couch. Or the floor,” Shion offered.

“Don’t be stupid,” Nezumi snapped. Though Shion only wanted to help, Nezumi’s voice edged into anger. “The bed is practical. No point in damaging your back, Your Highness.”

Shion didn’t protest again, but each night they slipped beneath the same blanket, he could feel Nezumi tense beside him. He tried to hide it by curling toward the wall, but Shion noticed every slight change in his companion. The only times Nezumi let that barrier fall were when he slipped into deep sleep and thrashed until he kicked Shion out of bed.

It was during one of these nightmare-fuelled panics that Shion wrapped his arms around Nezumi and held tight.

Nezumi woke immediately and growled, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You were having a nightmare or something,” Shion replied innocently. “My mother used to hold me whenever I had bad dreams, and it helped.”

“I’m not a child,” Nezumi hissed, already scooting closer to the wall.

Shion frowned in the darkness and held him closer. “You know, nightmares are normal. They don’t make you weak, especially after what you went through.” Shion thought back to when he found a twelve-year-old Nezumi in the rain with a bullet wound he never fully explained.

Silence stretched between them, and even though Shion held Nezumi’s back to his chest, he felt farther from Nezumi than ever as he waited for his response. Finally, for the first time since they began sharing this bed, Nezumi relaxed in Shion’s arms while fully conscious.

“You’re such a natural,” Nezumi muttered. His voice already faded with incoming sleep.

Shion beamed, burying his face into Nezumi’s hair. His locked his arms around his waist, and he never felt so safe or content. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah, I know.”

Nezumi did not kick or thrash for the rest of the night, and Shion dreamed of warmth and gentle touches. Sharing a bed suited them fine after all.


	3. Day 3: Gaming/Watching a Movie

“I can’t believe you went to all this trouble,” Nezumi groaned. He knew Shion possessed the innocence and maturity of a child at the best of times, but this seemed to go a bit too far. They fought every day for survival in West Block, yet Shion decided they should find the time to play a stupid game.

“You work so hard all the time, and I know you’ve read every one of these books repeatedly. This could be fun,” Shion suggested.

Though Nezumi tried to forget it, times like this reminded him that Shion was born and raised in No. 6. He gushed over how he and his mother used to play this game after she closed the bakery, but Nezumi only heard triviality that did not apply to the life he led.

“Please, Nezumi. You’ve gone to the theater every day this week. You deserve a break,” Shion pleaded.

Nezumi sighed and sat down on the couch. Shion beamed and took up his own place on his knees on the other side of the coffee table. A board that was once the side of a wooden box in a trash heap waited on the table between them. Shion had burned sticks and used the char to draw a grid of lines on the wooden plank. Pebbles rested in every other space for the first three rows on either side, black for Nezumi and brown for Shion.

“We could be doing other things right now,” Nezumi complained.

Shion raised one unamused eyebrow. “You sound like a whiny child. I bet you’ll be good at this game anyway. It’s called checkers.”

Shion briefly explained the rules, and Nezumi caught on quickly enough. Naturally, Shion won the first few games out of experience alone, but once Nezumi grew used to the various strategies and tactics, he made it more and more difficult on the other until he won a game of his own.

Around the time they started trading wins back and forth regularly, Nezumi stopped complaining about wasting time, and when Shion realized he needed to cook dinner, Nezumi made him promise another game after they ate.

They talked little as they played, for Nezumi turned out to be rather competitive. Even Shion became immersed in the game as his sharp mind calculated the various paths his pieces could take. However, the longer they played, the more they realized they were an even match. Nezumi’s street smarts rivalled Shion’s academics, but neither could truly best the other.

The candles burned low, and empty mugs rested on the table alongside the board before they finally called it a night. As soon as one game ended, the other would win the next, and they finally consented to a draw.

Nezumi was thankful Shion didn’t bring up his initial reluctance to join the game nor how engrossed he became, but the white-haired boy did smile cheekily as he climbed into bed.

“At least I’m your equal in something,” Shion said.

Nezumi shook his head and ruffled his hair.


	4. Day 4: On a Date

Shion shook Nezumi awake at precisely midnight, and he dodged the other boy’s punch with practiced flexibility. “Come on, Nezumi. We need to go now, or we’ll miss it,” Shion urged.

Though he was a far cry from a morning person, Nezumi instantly shifted to full alertness when woken suddenly. Shion suspected survival instincts fuelled such reflexes, but he took advantage of the skill now. He slipped out of their shared bed and tugged on Nezumi’s arm until they both stood in the cold room.

“What the hell, Shion?” Nezumi demanded. He jerked away from Shion’s grasp, but Shion simply took the opportunity to slip into his coat and offer Nezumi his own.

Nezumi stared at the worn garment as if it personally offended him. “Shion, spill what’s going on right now.”

Shion sighed. “Come on, I just want to show you something outside. It’s very special, and I want to share it with you,” he admitted with the genuine sincerity only he had the courage to employ.

“In the middle of the night?” Nezumi said. The shadows made his expression difficult to read, but Shion knew him well enough to fill in the blanks for his incredulous sneer.

“That’s the only time you can see it,” Shion said. He took the blanket from the bed and rolled it into an easily carried bundle.

Nezumi watched him with such amazement that Shion imagined only his boldness and self-appointed authority carried him this far without rebuke. “And why haven’t you mentioned it until now?” Nezumi questioned.

Shion shrugged and opened the door. “I wanted it to be a surprise,” he said.

Somehow, Shion persuaded Nezumi to follow him out into the chilly air, and they tramped beneath the open night sky. No buildings or artificial lights blocked the unadulterated beauty of the heavens, and Shion thought not even No. 6 could replicate this beauty. “You know, I took other science classes than ecology,” Shion chattered as they walked, his breath making puffs in the cool atmosphere. “I specialized in ecology, but I took some neurology for Safu, and I particularly enjoyed astronomy.”

“How fitting that a boy with his head stuck in the clouds would enjoy learning about the stars,” Nezumi grumbled. Though he agreed to this ridiculous outing, he kept his hands stuck in the pockets of his jacket, and he made a point to be as unenthusiastic as possible.

Shion chuckled lightly and came to a stop when they could see nothing but sandy plains and a thin dark spot where their home waited. He laid out the blanket on the ground and plopped down on top of it. After a moment of hesitation, Nezumi did the same.

“Now why are we here,” Nezumi demanded.

Shion smiled cheekily and took Nezumi’s fingers with one hand and pointed to the sky with the other. A moment of nothing passed, and then a thousand silver lights shot across the sky. White and gold sparkles lingered in their wake, and then more and more glimmering stars seared through the darkness.

“This meteor shower only happens every four years, so I thought we better catch a few beautiful things while we can,” Shion said. He tightened his grasp on his hand, and his eyes never left the way the silver light reflected off Nezumi’s face.

Nezumi stared enraptured at the plethora of light and dark above, and only when he realized Shion stared at him did he look away. “Shion, have you been reading cheesy romance novels again?” he grumbled.

Shion shrugged and smiled, and they both lifted their gazes to the sky.


	5. Day 5: Kissing

Nezumi perused his bookshelves for something to read, but every title would be the fourth or fifth time for him. He couldn’t exactly pop down to the local bookstore to buy more with his loads of extra cash, so he had been relying on the supply he had now for years. As much as he loved looking back on old stories to catch details he missed the first few times, something new for entertainment appealed to him.

This thought in mind, his gaze wandered to the white-haired boy with the piercing red eyes currently reading on the bed, all three rats perched on his head and shoulders. The book rested on the pillow, and he laid on his stomach with the defenselessness of a child.

“You know, Shion,” Nezumi mused. The boy in question glanced up from the page. “I told you that you couldn’t die because you needed to learn how to live, but what have you learned since then?”

“I can cook and wash dogs,” Shion said without a trace of irony. “And I’m reading more.” He gestured to the book before him as if to offer justification.

Nezumi sighed with the dramatics of a true thespian and used his hand the cover his eyes before shaking his head. “I feel as if I have failed you. What happened to fighting for your rights and having sex?” he accused.

A blush spread across Shion’s cheeks, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably before continuing, “I still plan to make a serum against the parasitic bees. That’s fighting for the rights of the innocent victims.”

Nezumi tried very hard not to roll his eyes, but he decided to force through that one. “And the other?”

The blushed darkened until Shion’s skin tone matched his eyes. “Now’s hardly the time for that,” he dismissed and pointedly returned to his book.

Nezumi chuckled deep in his throat. “Such a natural,” he said.

“Well, what do you propose?” Shion snapped, and Nezumi wondered if his unnatural coloring partly came from anger. Curious, he sashayed closer and sat on the bed. The proximity clearly unnerved Shion, and the other boy started to shift away.

Nezumi pinned him down, only allowing him to turn onto his back, before he locked his arms around him and met his eyes. The three rats scampered away, but neither boy paid them any attention. Nezumi leaned down and practically breathed hesitation, but Shion did not look disgusted or scared. He waited with open eyes and bated breath, and Nezumi could hardly turn away from such an image.

He brushed his lips against the other’s, and their mouths slotted together with an ease and familiarity too strong for the first time. Shion’s inexperience kept him frozen at first, but at Nezumi’s gentle coaxing, he melted into the other’s pace.

Nezumi meant the gesture as a tease, a joke, but there was nothing insincere once the events set in motion. His heart squeezed with emotions he never allowed himself to entertain, and he pulled back before they could overwhelm him.

He tried to hide his heavy breathing and fluttering heart as he said with acting he normally reserved for the stage, “I suppose that’s lesson one.”


	6. Day 6: Wearing Each Other's Clothes

“You look quite charming actually.”

“Please don’t patronize me.”

“It’s your own fault for staining your only pair of clothes with those mutts. You don’t actually have to keep going to Inukashi’s you know.”

“I like helping him out, and I don’t want to be deadweight. I use what he pays me to buy food from the bazaar sometimes.”

Shion twisted in the mirror and further observed Nezumi’s ragged khaki pants and black and grey shirt on him. Though the shirt fell just a bit big on him, they were actually quite close to the same time. Shion knew his ramblings about being taller were mostly fluff.

“Whatever. I’m going to shower. If you get my clothes dirty today, I’m sending you to Inukashi’s naked tomorrow.” Nezumi left the store room to cross the hall to the shower room.

Shion took one last glance in the mirror before grabbing Nezumi’s jacket and going out the door. He should be thankful to Nezumi for letting him borrow his clothes after one of the particularly big dogs smeared mud all into his collared shirt and cardigan yesterday. They felt warm and familiar against his skin, and they smelled of the old books fragrance Shion associated with Nezumi.

He did look a little ridiculous in such clothing. His gentle persona did not befit a black jacket someone as fierce as Nezumi wore. Still, he wanted to do his part, so he still went to Inukashi’s to wash the dogs even if he knew he would make fun of him the entire time.

And he did. Inukahi pointed and laughed the entire day, and while Shion kept a bright smile, he felt some relief when he finally made it home as the sun went down. He put Nezumi’s coat away and started on dinner. He knew not to expect Nezumi home from the theatre for several hours, so he took him time in chopping up a small potato, occasionally taking the time to read a chapter here and there.

Once he finally finished the soup, Nezumi came home barely half an hour later. Shion grinned in preparation to greet his partner, but Nezumi beat him to it.

He threw open the door and declared, “I cannot believe you made me wear this to the theatre and back.”

Shion had to swallow a burst of laughter at the risk of Nezumi’s wrath. He grabbed Nezumi’s jacket without thinking this morning, and he had not thought of how that would leave Nezumi to take his own red overcoat. The scholarly garment fit Nezumi decently and fell to his thighs, but the innocent style seemed so wrong when his grey eyes burned with conviction.

“You look quite charming actually,” Shion quoted from what Nezumi told him earlier.

Nezumi’s scowl deepened. “Your foolishly disarming attire attracts more erotic attention than I can afford on the streets of West Block at night,” he snapped.

Shion’s eyes widened, and his lips parted with concern. “Did you get into any trouble? I’m so sorry if-”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nezumi cut him off. “I can handle myself fine. But you sure as hell better keep your clothes clean.”


	7. Day 7: Cosplaying

Nezumi finally consented to allowing Shion to follow him to work. He understood quite well that this decision was against his better judgment, and he would likely regret it immediately, but Shion’s eyes shone with such emotion when he begged. And as Shion pointed out, he had been to Nezumi’s theatre before.

This time would not include fainting spells or monstrous crowds however. Nezumi only allowed Shion to come on the condition that Shion would stay in his dressing room and not wander under any circumstances. He expected Shion to whine, but the boy jumped at the opportunity even if it just meant seeing Nezumi briefly between scenes.

Nezumi would have suspected Shion only wanted to see him in a dress if he didn’t know him better. At least Nezumi would not have to worry about fighting disgusting perverts off him if he stayed in the dressing room. He even somewhat enjoyed having someone to talk to during the in between moments of his job.

“Do you ever practice, or do you memorize all your lines instantly?” Shion babbled among other questions in relation to his job. The kid could be like a puppy as he explored the small dressing room overrun with costumes and props.

Nezumi sat at the vanity and carefully applied eye shadow. Stage makeup needed to be much darker than regular stuff.

“I used to practice. I don’t need to anymore,” he answered absently. Though the situation should have felt uncomfortable, Shion’s easy-going attitude fended off any tension. Nezumi rose from his chair, and the skirts of his costume flowed to the floor.

Shion paused in his exploring to take in Nezumi’s gentle female appearance, but while his eyes shone with appreciation, Nezumi saw no lechery in his gaze.

“You make a perfect Ophelia,” Shion complimented.

Nezumi laughed. “I believe you are a bit biased in that regard.”

Shion blushed, but he did not deny Nezumi’s hypothesis. “What other parts do you play?” he asked.

“I don’t care to list all of them, but I’m sure you could guess. The main female roles in every Shakespeare production my manager can find,” Nezumi admitted not without some distaste.

“Even Juliet?” Shion asked.

In lieu of an answer Nezumi gestured to an elaborate pink dress in the open closet. “Manager likes to save that one for special occasions.”

“I bet you look amazing as Juliet,” Shion gushed and then flushed red.

Nezumi grinned. “Are you more perverted than you appear, Your Majesty? Tell me, how do you picture yourself? In Romeo’s dashing garb or in a dress yourself?”

“I- I don’t picture myself at all,” Shion stuttered. “I just think you look nice in anything you wear.”

Nezumi sighed. “As disarmingly honest and innocent as ever. It’s show time for me. You stay here, and if you do try on my costumes, put them back before I return. Or leave them on. Why should you be the only one to enjoy a show?”

Nezumi left the dressing room in a swirl of gossamer skirts while Shion sputtered for a solid five minutes after his departure.


	8. Day 8: Shopping

Shion always offered to do the shopping. Since Nezumi worked every night and gave him a place to live, Shion saw it as the least he could do. Nevertheless, Nezumi liked to go with him on his less busy days, and Shion was more than happy to go together.

Today, however, Shion was happy to shop alone.

Inukashi gave him a bit more money than normal, so Shion planned to surprise Nezumi with some sort of surprise. As soon as he finished with the dogs for the day, he visited the bazaar in the space of time he had before Nezumi left the theatre to go home.

A light breeze weaved through the any people crowding the dusty streets. Shion perused the stalls of bruised fruits and suspicious meats. He wanted to please Nezumi, to make him smile, and he briefly considered buying a new coat or a pastry, but Inukashi did not give him that much extra.

So he wandered to the quieter side of the market with more ragged tents and less reputable products. Nezumi told him to avoid this area because they couldn’t afford to spend money on anything but food, but Shion tentatively approached a booth draped in a faded purple cloth.

“What you interested in, son?” a fragile lady demanded.

“A gift for my friend,” Shion replied.

The old lady spread her arms wide and gestured for Shion to come inside her tent. He hesitated, but he would never distrust people as Nezumi did. Shion shuffled into the booth, and his gaze took in the humble shop. Most of her products consisted of knickknacks and various aspects of junk. Broken costume jewelry, faded scarves with moth holes, and pieces of glass bottles occupied most of the table when something different caught Shion’s eyes.

He picked up a ragged book with fading pages, but a smile spread wide across his face. “This one,” Shion said.

“Three silver coins,” the old lady rasped. Shion handed her the payment immediately, and she nearly stepped back with surprise. She clearly didn’t expect to actually get paid, and she smiled as if she had swindled the king as Shion left the booth with the book and a feeling of warm happiness.

A feeling that quickly turned cold when a strong hand grabbed the back of his jacket and pulled him into an alleyway all too similar to the one where the prostitute cornered him on his first trip. His face bet the brick wall, and the attacker pulled back his arms so that he couldn’t fight. Hot breath bloomed at his ear.

“You could have haggled the price you know,” the attacker whispered.

“Nezumi!” Shion cried.

Nezumi pulled back and allowed Shion to turn around. Shion’s cheeks bloomed red with anger, but Nezumi raised an eyebrow when he realized the true reason.

“This was supposed to be a surprise!” Shion scolded as he held up the book.

Nezumi shook his head in exasperation. “I cornered you in an alley and nearly scared you to death, and that’s what you’re upset about.”


	9. Day 9: Hanging Out with Friends

Nezumi heard the knock on the door, and a very bad feeling settled over him. The sentiment only worsened when Shion rose from the couch, opened the door, and greeted whoever stood on the other side with a cheery, “Oh, hello! Please come inside.”

Nezumi sat up straight on the bed, snapping his book closed. “Shion,” he said as a question and warning both.

When Shion stepped away, Inukashi waltzed in with one dog in his arms and another trailing behind him. Shion closed the door behind them instead of in their faces as Nezumi would have done.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Nezumi challenged. He stayed on the bed as if to assert how the unexpected occurrence didn’t bother him, but the hairs on his skin stood up with awareness. He came to Inukashi, but he never came here. This was their arrangement.

“She’s about to have her puppies, but something’s wrong. Can you sing, or can’t you?” Inukashi said. He gently laid the bloated dog on the ground and put his hands on his hips in a direct attack.

Shion folded a blanket and slid it beneath the dog’s head to make her more comfortable, and the canine replied with pained whimpers. “Nezumi can do it! His singing can solve anything,” Shion assured him.

Nezumi crossed his arms and met Inukashi’s glare. “Did you bring payment?” he asked.

Inukashi’s expression twisted into a sneer. “Slow month. I can’t pay today, but I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Forget it then.” Nezumi stretched out across the bed and leaned his back against the wall. “I don’t take credit.”

Shion’s mouth dropped open in surprise, but Inukashi reacted before he could chide Nezumi. “You asshole! You know I’ll pay it when I can, but if you don’t sing now, she or the pups might kick it!” He balled his hands in fists and raised them in the air in his rant. Nezumi never reacted at all save for opening his book to the place where he left off.

Then Shion spoke up. “Nezumi, these are puppies. I’ll make the payment with the money I’ve earned, but please do this.”

Damn Shion and the genuine distress that emanated from his entire being.

Nezumi groaned and rose from the bed as if the mere effort tried every aspect of his patience. He kneeled down at the heaving dog and gently rubbed her back as he sang a soft melody different from the one he used to send souls away. Within moments the mother dog smoothly gave birth to three puppies. Inukashi and Shion washed them with a soft towel, and Nezumi eased the mother into a gentle slumber.

Shion smiled at Nezumi when the whole task was finished. The three puppies snuggled into their mother’s warmth, and Inukashi looked at them with such affection that the whole scene carried a sense of domesticity.

At least until Inukashi turned to Nezumi with a smugness that could not be masked by his gratitude. “You are so whipped.”


	10. Day 10: With Animal Ears

Their evenings took on a certain reliability that they both found comfortable. Shion came home first and cooked dinner, usually a form of soup, and Nezumi returned later after his shift at the theatre. After they ate together, they took turns in the shower room and filled in their time with books or idle conversation, sometimes a combination of both.

Perhaps not glamorous or expected of two individuals who fled No. 6 as criminals and would soon return to bring the city crashing down, but they valued the time they shared.

So Shion noticed immediately when something different entered their routine.

“What are you doing?”

Nezumi glanced up from where he worked on the couch and grimaced. A band and pieces of felt littered their coffee table, and Nezumi currently worked on threading a needle. “Manager wants to try a new play that we don’t have costumes for. He thinks animal ears will appeal to the audience which only further proves that my business is just one step above old man Rikiga’s,” Nezumi grumbled.

Shion sat down next to him on the couch and peered at the supplies curiously. “What’s the play?” he asked.

“Please don’t make me say it out loud,” Nezumi groaned.

Though he didn’t quite understand, Shion respected his wishes and only watched as he managed to slide the frazzled thread through the eye of the needle. Nezumi took the band and the triangular pieces of felt and observed them critically before turning to Shion.

“Actually, could you lend me your head?” he inquired.

“Huh?” Shion replied intelligently.

Rather than clarify, Nezumi put the band on Shion’s head and placed the felt from there. “I promise not to stick you,” Nezumi assured him. “But I need a reference, so I don’t place the ears crooked and make the play worse than it’s already going to be.”

Shion did not dare nod or speak when Nezumi sewed an ear to a thin band in alarmingly close proximity to his head, so he gave his silent approval, and Nezumi seemed to take it. As Nezumi worked, Shion glanced up and admired the intense concentration that froze his features. Even though Nezumi scoffed and degraded the play, Shion could tell he took anything related to the theatre very seriously. That indifferent persona didn’t quite bleed into everything he did.

Nezumi worked quickly, but when he pulled back, he tilted Shion’s head in several directions to get the full effect of the headpiece. Shion tolerated the manhandling silently until Nezumi finally gave his nod of approval and released Shion’s chin.

“I suppose it will do. If manager is right, this should satisfy them,” Nezumi sighed. “Though I must admit, you do make the ears look almost alluring. I could almost see the appeal.”

Shion blushed and took the headpiece off, careful not to disturb the sewing. “Shouldn’t you be the one trying them on if you’ll be wearing them?” he said.

“Oh, are you curious as well? I suppose I can oblige you.” Nezumi slid the ears onto his own head, and his expression brightened as a thought occurred to him. “I suppose I can appreciate the irony of a rat dressing like a cat.”

Shion smiled. Not for any particular reason. He just liked when Nezumi was in a good mood.


	11. Day 11: Wearing Kigurumis

Nezumi was getting sick of his manager’s ridiculous ploys to bring in more of an audience. He almost felt a bit thankful that they would soon make their attack on No. 6, for even if they faced life and death struggle with impossible odds, at least he wouldn’t be wearing a degrading costume while doing it.

Then again, since the outfit at least hid his entire body, the whole situation wouldn’t have been quite so bad if it wasn’t for-

“Oh, sorry, I must have entered the wrong room.”

-that.

Nezumi sighed. “Don’t go anywhere, Shion. This is the right room.” He turned around, so Shion could see his face through the round hole that revealed his face.

Curiously, Shion’s face grew red as he shut the door behind him. “Sorry, I just thought… I didn’t recognize you,” he admitted.

“I should hope not. This is officially the worst idea manager has come up with. Maybe we actors should unionize. Or maybe I should quit. Not like I’ll be working much with the Manhunt coming any day now.” As Nezumi considered these ideas out loud, he turned to his vanity mirror to further inspect the monstrosity he currently wore.

As if cat ears weren’t bad enough, manager now thought full body animal costumes would appeal to the audience though Nezumi could not imagine why. The gray furry suit might resemble a rat, but Nezumi refused to acknowledge irony or coincidence or rhetorical effect of the situation.

“You know,” Shion said, and Nezumi turned to face him. “I didn’t realize you could be so dramatic about trivial things as well.” Shion said the words with the innocent air only he could master, and somehow that made it so much worse.

Nezumi immediately began to strip much to Shion’s sputtering and blushing, and by the time Shion recovered, Nezumi already returned to his cargo pants and black jacket. He wrapped his scarf around his neck and strolled to the door, waving his hand for Shion to come along. “Come on,” he ordered. “Consider this my one-man protest for my one-man union.”

Though Shion followed Nezumi out of the dressing room and then the theatre, he protested the entire time. “It wasn’t so bad. You looked fine. We can still go back.”

“Forget it,” Nezumi cut him off. “This is just as well. I need to focus on what we’re going to do when the Manhunt comes, not the latest thrill that manager thinks will bring perverted guys with money into the theatre.”

Shion grew quieter as they walked back to their shared home. They left the market behind as twilight colored the sky deep purple. When the silence stretched on just a bit too long, Nezumi said, “Are you worried about the money? We have enough saved to live on for a while.”

“It’s not that. I guess I’m just thinking about how close the Manhunt really is,” Shion admitted.

Nezumi could not blame him. He did not return to the theatre, and he did not see his manager again until moments before one of the tanks blew most of the market to the ground.


	12. Day 12: Making Out

Shion understood the implications when he first decided to infiltrate the correctional facility, but somehow, it never felt real until now. They burrowed themselves inside for the night, and their single lantern cast dim light and warm shadows on the bookshelves and bed. While Shion put away their dishes from dinner, Nezumi already propped himself up on the bed with a book, a play by Tennessee Williams.

Nezumi decided he would not return to the theatre, and now Shion could only think of how their lives would soon derail into oblivion never to return to their previous state.

He should rejoice. Safu would leave the facility, the bees would not destroy the entire city, and Shion might see his mother again. These were reasons for happiness, not despair, yet he kept thinking of how Nezumi decided he didn’t need to earn money anymore. The only people who didn’t need money were those dead in the streets.

Shion’s mind shied away from the thought so violently that he might have flinched. He couldn’t imagine a world without Nezumi, and he refused to dwell on it. Besides, they made a plan. They would save Safu and escape the correctional facility alive.

“As flattering as it is, staring is rude, Your Majesty,” Nezumi scolded without removing his eyes from his book.

Shion startled as he hadn’t realized that he was staring at the object of his thoughts, but he didn’t flush with embarrassment as he normally did. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

The passive answer caught Nezumi’s attention, and he peered over his book to take in Shion’s appearance. “Are you okay?” he asked.

As if caught in a daze, Shion drifted over to the bed and climbed on the mattress. Nezumi eyed him suspiciously, but he refused to move away or back down, not even when Shion reached out a hand and cupped Nezumi’s cheek. “Do you really think we’ll survive the correctional facility?” Shion whispered.

“Come now, that’s my line,” Nezumi corrected him. “Don’t tell me you’re getting scared.”

“Maybe a little,” Shion admitted. “Scared of what I’m going to miss.”

Before Nezumi could think of a snarky reply, Shion took the book separating them in one hand and slid it away while closing the distance between them. They had kissed before, but all shyness fled as Shion drew closer and pressed himself against Nezumi’s chest.

He half-expected the other boy to push him away, but Nezumi held the small of his back to pull him in and kissed back with skill Shion did not yet possess. Perhaps Nezumi realized how much Shion needed this, or maybe he even needed this reassurance as well. Either way, as the light of the lantern died down, only the ruffles of clothing and quiet moans could be heard in the small room.

The rats remained suspiciously absent.

Shion eventually pulled back and rested his head on Nezumi’s chest, and the heartbeat he felt beneath offered him comfort. Nezumi weaved fingers through his white hair, and though neither knew if they would live or die, Shion thought he would never regret these choices he made.


	13. Day 13: Eating Ice Cream

Nezumi came whole with a small package, and when Shion asked him what was inside, Nezumi only replied with “Winter supplies.”

Three days later, it snowed.

Though their underground bunker trapped some warm air beneath earth’s soil, the room still took on an overall chill. They did not have the firewood or the money to buy more wood to keep the stove running all the time, but they kept a fire as much as they possibly could. When they did put out the stove to conserve supplies, they huddled beneath every blanket they could find and pressed close together. They read books during these times, and they could almost pretend that affection and a sense of adventure brought them to this moment, not just a lack of funds.

Unsurprisingly, they found themselves snowed in. They did live underground, and the snow piled on itself until a solid wall hindered their way outside. While Nezumi did have a shovel to rectify this, they already stocked up on supplies for a few weeks, so neither needed to go to the market anyway.

They passed the time with thin soup and thinner tea. The snow at least provided endless clean water if they gathered it from the right spot. They read and played that game Shion liked so much with the pebbles and board. Sometimes, if they had the stove lit, Nezumi would act out a few scenes from a play for Shion’s entertainment, and once or twice, Shion tried a few roles himself.

Then came a day in which the snow trickling down their hall was particularly clean and fluffy, and Nezumi smirked as he revealed his small cloth package once again.

“What are you doing?” Shion asked.

“Go get the cleanest snow you can find,” Nezumi ordered in lieu of an answer. “You may have to dig a bit to get past that first layer.”

Rather than argue and waste time, Shion did what he said with childish curiosity and excitement. He gathered the crispest, whitest snow in the entire underground and packed it all in a bowl.

When he returned to their room, he shut the door quickly to push the cold air out. He gave the bowl to Nezumi and then warmed his hands by the fire while he watched the other boy work his magic.

Nezumi poured the contents of the package inside the bowl, and Shion saw tiny white crystals fall into the snow. He stirred the contents together until the concoction turned into a smooth, creamy texture.

“It’s best with a bit of milk, but I was lucky to get the sugar I did,” Nezumi admitted as he poured the mixture into two smaller bowls. He handed one to Shion who took it with unsure, and still cold, hands.

“What is this?” he asked.

Nezumi grinned. “Snow ice cream. The poor man’s luxury. And not that bad at all,” he said. They each took a spoon and tasted the treat that made them shiver from the inside.

Shion’s eyes lit up with delight. “This is amazing,” he cried.

“You’re impressed by anything I do,” Nezumi said, but he laughed.


	14. Day 14: Gender-Swapped

Nezumi flipped through her worn copy of Shakespeare's plays and sighed dramatically. "I can't believe manager cast me as Macbeth. One of the only females in his staff, and he puts me in the spotlight," she huffed, tossing her long silver tresses over her shoulder. She rested on her stomach on the bed and kicked her legs idly as she observed the lines she would soon perform on stage.

"You should be honored to be the title character. You deserve the lead role," Shion assured her. She sat on the edge of the bed with two mugs of hot tea and peeked over Nezumi's shoulder to glance as the page. "He cast you because no one was better. Tea?"

Nezumi took one of the mugs and brought the steaming liquid to her lips before lowering the cup without taking a drink. "I'll look hideous in the costume," she lamented as the thought just occurred to her.

"You couldn't look hideous in anything," Shion chided. "The girls will be taken with you."

"You say that as if there are actually any girls in the audience," Nezumi scoffed. "Maybe I can confuse a few of those perverted men at least."

"See, you found a bright side," Shion teased. She took a sip of her tea and watched Nezumi study her lines until the actress decided she was ready to attempt a scene.

Nezumi took up the entire empty space between the coffee table and bookshelves, and Shion watched with intense concentration from the bed. Naturally, Nezumi fell into Macbeth's character with ease, and her long hair and striking figure took nothing away from her undeniably masculine, and gloriously angsty, performance. When Nezumi finished with her lines and bowed, Shion exploded into applause.

"Amazing! How do you do that?" she exclaimed.

Nezumi smirked with such striking beauty that Shion wondered how she seemed so much like the ambitious warrior from Shakespeare's work a mere moment ago. "Skill," she answered. "And a basic understanding of the male psyche. Not that you would understand that."

"Hey, that's not fair," Shion protested.

"Don't bother denying it," Nezumi dismissed. "You remember the disaster with your Safu. The poor boy has probably had blue balls for years, and you never noticed."

Shion blushed bright red and twisted her hands in the sheets of the bed in her embarrassment. Seeing this, Nezumi continued with increasing enjoyment, "Oh, yes, you know nothing at all about the male species, but that's okay, I suppose. You can hardly focus on dating when you're on the run from the government and planning the prevention of a plague of killer bees after all."

While Nezumi ranted with some of the same dramatics she used in her acting, Shion cut her off firmly. "I may not know about boys like you do, but I know people. And I know you."

Nezumi looked shocked at first, but then a mischievous grin spread across her face, and she flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Now I suppose that might just be true."


	15. Day 15: In a Different Clothing Style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is probably going to seem a little out of sync with the rest and probably a bit ooc, but that's because it's mostly self-indulgent. My friends and I like to joke that if Nezumi lived today, he would be the obnoxious hipster type, so this prompt gave me the chance to play with that a bit.

When Shion came home, he arrived with a bundle of cloth and a big smile. Nezumi glanced up from where he stewed tonight’s version of soup, and a sense of doom instantly washed over him. Nothing good could result from Shion looking that pleased with himself.

“You are home late,” Nezumi approached casually.

“I can now make up for borrowing your clothes and stealing the coat the other day,” Shion exclaimed, holding up his bundle proudly.

Nezumi raised one eyebrow and gestured with his ladle for Shion to elaborate further. The shorter boy laid out the bundle on the couch and rolled out the cloth to reveal that the whole ensemble was just several articles of clothing folded together. Nezumi caught a glimpse of plaid and knitted fabric before he raised his skeptic gaze to the white-haired boy in question.

“Inukashi just got in a new load of clothing from the correctional facility, and instead of paying me with money, she let me pick out a few things. I thought it would be a good chance to make up for taking your coat the other day,” Shion explained.

“Funny, the idea of wearing scraps laden with fleas that previously warmed the bodies of criminals that are likely now dead doesn’t appeal to me,” Nezumi deadpanned.

“The clothes are washed, and criminals are not often executed in the correctional facility,” Shion corrected. “Besides, the winter months are harsh, and these are warm. Please at least try them on.”

Nezumi groaned and whined, but these days, he really couldn’t be mean to Shion like he used to be. Whether he considered it a weakness or a strength, Nezumi leaned on Shion more than he ever expected. He leaned more toward ‘weakness’ today, for after they ate their respective portions, Nezumi took the new clothing back to the store room where they kept the mirror.

The swindled outfit consisted of black jeans that clung to his skin even at the ankles and a tight shirt with nonsense words and pictures of tall buildings. A bigger flannel shirt with a red and black plaid print went over this, and a knitted burgundy hat covered the top of his hair. Shion also brought a pair of big-framed black glasses, but Nezumi left those in the room after he tried them on once. His eyesight was just fine without any aid.

Shion’s face lit up when Nezumi made his appearance back into the main room. Perched at the edge of their couch, he clapped enthusiastically. “See, don’t you feel warmer? You look great.”

Nezumi blushed at the attention which was ridiculous because he performed on stage for a living. Though he actually liked the look of the clothing, Nezumi huffed, “I look great in anything, but these clothes are ridiculous.”

Shion shrugged. “Personally, I think they suit you.”

Nezumi did not quite know how to respond to that, so he huffed, “Shouldn’t you be reading or something? You haven’t even ventured into the works of George Orwell yet.”

Shion only chuckled in response.


	16. Day 16: During Their Morning Ritual

Shion rolled over in their bed and blinked his eyes slowly into awareness. After a few moments of staring at the ceiling, he carefully slid out from under the blankets so as not to wake the boy next to him. Smiling softly, Shion tucked the sheets back around Nezumi’s sleeping form to keep the chill out.

Even though the underground room kept a decently consistent temperature no matter what the weather, Shion breathed a sigh of relief when he started up the stove, and tiny flames chases away the threat of cold. He set a pot of water on top and then went back to the storage room to change into his usual black pants and white shirt. He folded his night clothes neatly and placed them in the corner where he and Nezumi kept all their extra clothes.

By the time Shion returned to the main room, the water boiled. He pulled the pot away from the stove, added some mint leaves, and placed the lid over the mix to allow the tea to steep. Nezumi liked something sharp to the taste to bring him into the new day.

Everything else prepared, Shion approached their bed with shared steps, and before he managed to lay a hand on his shoulder, Nezumi rolled over and glared at him through his messy locks of hair. “You can’t be stealthy to save your life,” he growled in a raspy, sleep-ridden voice.

“I tried to be quiet to let you sleep longer,” Shion huffed.

Nezumi sat up, pushing the blankets off him in the process, and rubbed his hands through his hair. “You need to work on that,” he advised. Shion knew better than to take him too seriously when Nezumi just woke up, and sure enough, the other boy’s entire demeanor softened when he asked, “Tea?”

Shion poured them both a cup, and Nezumi slinked to the couch where they could share their morning treat together.

“Going to Inukashi’s today? If you don’t hurry, you’ll be late,” Nezumi warned. He breathed in the scent of the mint before he took a satisfying sip.

Shion stirred a few sugar crystals into his tea before he deemed it drinkable. “I have time. We’re washing the dogs today, and they might catch a cold if we bathe them before the sun rises. When are you going into the theatre?”

“Evening, probably. We’re doing one that doesn’t require any practice run-throughs. I’ll leave before that though. Some business to take care of.”

Nezumi took a drink from his tea as if that would distract Shion from what Nezumi just said, but they both knew better. However, Shion also learned a long time ago not to question him. He understood that Nezumi made deals in dark alleys and shook hands with shady characters, but he also knew that most of what Nezumi did was for him.

“I better go,” Shion said after a while and placed his empty mug on the table.

“Be careful,” Nezumi replied.

Shion leaned down and brushed a chaste kiss across Nezumi’s lips and promised, “I will.” After Shion left and shut the door behind him, Nezumi sat back and shook his head. What an addition to their routine.


	17. Day 17: Spooning

Nezumi gently touched Shion’s shoulder to gain his attention. “The soup is ready. You should eat,” he said.

The mop of white hair rustled as the boy shook his head in refusal. He curled on his side facing away from Nezumi, and every blanket they owned wrapped around his body in a tight cocoon that went all the way to his nose. Nezumi barely saw his eyes squeezed shut in the mass of fluffy fabric.

“Not hungry,” Shion grunted.

“I don’t care. You need food if you’re going to get your strength back. I even made hot coffee for your throat,” Nezumi cooed in temptation.

Shion scooted an inch closer to the wall and pulled the blankets around him a little tighter in response.

Nezumi narrowed his eyes, thoroughly unamused. “You can be such a brat when you’re not feeling well. I ought to make Inukashi take care of you since he’s the one who let you wash dogs in the dead of winter. Don’t you know this place is crawling with germs, and weakening your immune system like that is just begging for an early death?” Nezumi huffed. He crossed his arms and sat on the plopped down of the bed so that the whole mattress shook.

Shion whimpered but otherwise offered no reply.

“I slaved over this soup for you. Practically beat a man an inch from death for the last potato without rotten spots. Braved the frigid cold to find the cleanest snow to melt for water,” Nezumi continued as if he described a daring exploit rather than a cooking escapade. “Beowulf did not show more courage that what I did in the course of making this soup, and you won’t eat it?”

This time, Shion didn’t even consider the conversation worthy of a whine, and Nezumi’s eyebrow practically twitched with annoyance. Thoroughly fed up with being ignored, he slipped his hands beneath the blankets. When Shion still didn’t respond, Nezumi slid his entire body beneath the comforter and wrapped his arms around Shion’s waste. He could feel the other boy’s fever through his clothes.

“I would be quite pleased if you would return to full health soon,” Nezumi whispered into his ear.

Shion snuggled back into Nezumi’s chest. “You’re warm,” he muttered in half-sleep disillusion.

Nezumi sighed and pulled the boy closer. Though his body burned with fever, Nezumi felt him shake with chill, and the pile of blankets offered little comfort. In a vague hope of warming him more effectively, Nezumi slipped one of his legs between Shion’s and kept one hand at his stomach. He breathed into his snowy white hair, for though Nezumi teased him about being taller, there was really very little difference in their heights at all.

“One quick nap. Then you’re getting up and eating my soup,” Nezumi ordered.

Shion hummed in his throat and nestled so that their bodies fit together perfectly. “The soup you slaved over, right?” he teased faintly, never opening his eyes.

“Yes, the soup I slaved over,” Nezumi confirmed.


	18. Day 18: Doing Something Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of important notes at this point. First, up until this chapter, I have written prompts from the time period during the series. This prompt wraps that up, and from here on out, I'll write my prompts as I imagine them after their reunion.
> 
> Another note, though I have read the novels, read the manga, and watched the anime, I prefer the manga story line, so that's the one I'm going to follow. Spoilers ahead.

When they infiltrated the correctional facility, they went in together with the promise of making it out together. Shion never entertained the thought that they would do any different. He was a fool.

Too much happened within that cursed place, for Shion to make assumptions he did not understand. He committed a crime he never would have thought himself capable of doing, and he saw Nezumi break into tears for the first time. They reached portions of themselves they did not know existed.

They also survived, and despite all the odds against them, they did escape the correctional facility together. Nezumi barely clung to life, and blood poured from his wounds, but they fled as the building burned to the ground. Inukashi and Rikiga with them.

Shion remembered the next parts as respective blurs: finding the doctor, healing Nezumi, the attack on the rebels, and then their own escape once again. As chaotic and stressful as those events were, Shion only felt a warm sense of gratitude because he realized Nezumi would live at that point, and nothing overshadowed that sense of relief.

Of course, even insuring Nezumi's survival was not enough. They traveled to the top floor of the Moondrop, and Nezumi faced Elyurias as his people had done for centuries. Shion watched as Nezumi gained them all a second chance. No. Not everyone. Nezumi achieved a second chance for Shion. Something for him to take and cherish and make into something worthwhile.

Shion thought they would do that together, but he was wrong.

They finally made it home to the scents of cinnamon and warm bread, and they fell asleep on Shion's bed. His mother did not say a word about that, and Shion thought she probably already knew.

Shion fell in love with those next moments. Waking up to Nezumi in his room. The other boy swinging a coffee cup as if he belonged there all along. Smiling. Teasing. Theatric and literature references that Shion understood more and more. They should have continued that way. That should have been their forever, their happily ever after.

Instead, Nezumi left. A promise kiss or not, Shion still felt empty.

Even when his heart felt worn and heavy, Shion continued. Nezumi gave him a second chance, and he would not waste it. Even if he now did this alone.

He became head chairman of the reconstruction committee. He organized a system that benefitted both the citizens of No. 6 and West Block. He worked long hours and usually did not come home until midnight, and then he left early the next morning. He only remembered to eat when his mother reminded him.

He thought of Nezumi at a constant. When Shion faced a new problem or decision, he often imagined what Nezumi would advise in the situation. Sarcastic comments and book references and all.

_"Reunion will come."_

Nezumi promised that, and Shion only survived each day in hope that he told the truth.

"Come back, Nezumi. I can't do this without you."


	19. Day 19: In Formal Wear

Shion disliked parties, but as head chairman of the reconstruction committee, he did not have much choice when it came to the No. 6 ball celebrating four years since the previous hierarchy fell to the new era of equality and justice. Even though joy should ignite his veins with excitement that the city now boasted four full years of freedom and peace, Shion only felt the familiar depression washing over him.

Four years since Nezumi left. Four years since he disappeared from his life.

As he slowly dressed in the formal clothing his mother bought for him, he felt more like he wore a funeral suit than the sleek garb it was meant to be. Another night of faking a smile. Another public event in which he must pretend that he was not dying with each breath.

To anyone who look on from afar, Shion remained the image of control and authority without losing any of his charming compassion. He worked hard, and though the city faced a crisis or two, Shion always lead the way until they resurfaced on the right path. He made a remarkable leader.

But his mother and Inukashi knew. He barely found meaning in the great feats he accomplished without Nezumi. He used to keep a good amount of optimism, for he believed with all his heart that Nezumi would keep his promise.

But this past year. After so long without a word, he finally started to lose hope.

Nevertheless, he dressed in his formal suit, and he arrived at the party with a smile.

Unlike the extravagant events of the previous No. 6 that only invited the elites, this celebration took on the characteristics of a festival. Fairy lights and lanterns lit up the foliage of the city gardens, and fountains of drinks and food littered an array of tables. Music drifted from where a band played in a gazebo, and children darted from place to place with sparkling toys. Some of the teenagers danced in the center while the adults lingered in the paths to talk and enjoy the festivities.

Shion shook countless hands that night as that was basically in his job description when it came to public events like these. He wanted to be the type of leader who reached out to his people as one of them rather than a cold superior entity. The people adored him for this attitude and for all the work they knew he did.

He enjoyed seeing the smiles on those he greeted, but the work exhausted Shion after a while. Once he offered some sort of handshake or smile or conversation to everyone at the party at least twice, he slipped away and trailed into the parts of the garden where few ventured. The decoration committee stopped putting up lights and lanterns by the time they reached the more forest-like parts of the garden, so Shion found refuge in the quiet darkness beneath the great canopies.

He leaned against one of the large trunks and sighed, closing his eyes.

“Show business isn’t as easy as it looks, huh?”

Shion’s eyes shot open immediately.

“Alas, your public awaits you, Your Majesty.”

Nezumi leaned against one of the many great trees as if they met here every day. He wore a suit almost identical to Shion’s that made him look slip and as handsome as ever. He tied his hair back in the same way he did four years ago, and somehow, that made Shion want to cry.

Shion did not move for three slow heartbeats, and then he flew into Nezumi’s waiting arms.


	20. Day 20: Dancing

Nezumi cradled Shion against his chest, and he tried to ignore how his entire being shifted to accommodate the boy he had not seen in four years. He convinced himself over his travels that he did not need anyone, let alone optimistic boys with white hair, but from the moment he caught sight of those crimson eyes once again, he knew he never wanted to be anywhere else.

He would never regret leaving. He needed that time to shift through the events and determine what feelings arose from adrenaline and what emotions came from natural affection. He required the time to find the place where he ended and Shion began.

He also needed to know if Shion could do this on his own.

A year should have been enough time, even two. Why did he wait four long years to come back? Nezumi’s mind shied away from that question, but he understood deep down. What do you say to someone you connected with on such an emotional level and then abandoned?

Nezumi always did use snarky remarks as a defense mechanism.

He heard rumor of the four-year celebration when he stopped in one of the bigger villages scattered between the cities. Somehow, his continuous roaming brought him closer and closer to No. 6 until he found himself in exactly the right place at nearly the right time.

He refused to make conscious decisions about what he would do, but he bought a suit with the money he gained working odd jobs on the road, and he researched the exact location of the anniversary party and the time. As for how he found Shion exactly, he supposed he just had a sense for that sort of thing. That, and Cravat never forgot Shion’s scent.

Shion eventually pulled back from his embrace and stared at him as if he wondered if Nezumi was even real. The disbelief and tentative hope nearly broke Nezumi’s heart, but then Shion reared back and slapped Nezumi across his face.

Nezumi cradled the offended cheek and exclaimed, “What the hell? What kind of greeting do you call that?”

“The type of greeting you get when you take four years to come back,” Shion returned with a glare.

Nezumi shot him a dark look, but once the stinging died down, he could see the logic. Nezumi sighed just as a few tendrils of a soft melody drifted through the woods. The band apparently shifted to more nostalgic music rather than the upbeat pieces they played moments ago.

Looking at Shion, Nezumi decided now was not the time for the inevitable rehashing of emotions. He gave a small bow and offered his hand to the other boy. “May I have this dance, Your Majesty?” Nezumi asked.

Shock registered on the other’s face at the sudden shift in conversation, but he softened into a smile and took Nezumi’s hand. “I’m still not very good,” he warned.

Nezumi caressed the small of his back with one hand, and Shion grasped his shoulder. They stood far closer than necessary as Nezumi coaxed them into a gentle rhythm among the trees.

“Just follow my lead,” he whispered.

Shion nodded, but the advice proved unnecessary. They fell back into the rhythm and pace they created four years ago, and they danced as if they never parted at all.


	21. Day 21: Cooking/Baking

Shion invited Nezumi back into his home, and after some grumbling and reluctance, Nezumi came. Though Shion spent most of his time with his mother in the bakery, the reconstruction committee did give him his own apartment. Shion tried to keep most of his work there, so he would not worry his mother.

When he brought Nezumi inside, the other glanced at the clean facilities, the modern workings, and then the piles and piles of paperwork on the coffee table in the living room. Shion expected him to comment, but he said nothing. Perhaps he felt as if he did not have the right.

Though Shion offered the other side of the bed, Nezumi chose to sleep on the couch that night. Shion tried to persuade him but failed. The bed suddenly felt much bigger that night than it did the last time he slept in it.

The next morning, Shion brewed coffee in a coffee maker that did not involve boiling water in a pot over a fire and straining the liquid through precious few grounds. He still valued the simple task of pushing a button, and even if those months in West Block aged him and spoke of countless hardships, he felt grateful to them for teaching him of the luxuries he kept now.

“Do you think I could have a cup of that?”

Shion glanced up to find Nezumi lingering at the edge of the kitchen. Without the tie his hair reached just past his shoulders, and he wore the same casual clothing he kept in their basement home.

“Of course. Do you want cream, sugar? I have flavors, too. Later, there’s a coffee shop I want to show you,” Shion said.

“Just a little milk,” Nezumi requested. Shion wondered if he pushed too far with the implication of a ‘later’ for them. He did not want to scare Nezumi away, but Shion did not intend to let him slip through his fingers again.

Shion poured the steaming coffee and a dash of milk in a mug and gave it to Nezumi. The simple pleasure that overtook his normally cautious expression warmed Shion’s heart. “What do you think about breakfast?” he asked.

“Anything sounds like the elixir of the Greek gods,” Nezumi replied.

Shion laughed lightly and started pulling out eggs and ham from his fridge followed by bread from the cupboard. Nezumi raised his eyebrows as he leaned against the doorway, still sipping from his coffee. “You’re doing well,” he commented.

“Not as well as I would be with you.” The words slipped out before Shion properly thought about them, and he blushed. Though Nezumi looked shocked at first, his expression shifted to shame. Shion remembered that Nezumi did tease him for always speaking his honest feelings, and he wished he’d do that now rather than look so guilty.

“Come help me with this,” Shion beckoned to take his mind off it. “You can do toast, right? I’ll make eggs and ham.”

Nezumi shifted back into his usual confident self so quickly that Shion recalled his skill as an actor. “I will have you know that I can do much more than toast,” he teased.

They made breakfast and small talk, and Shion told him about all the progress the city had made. Nezumi revealed nothing about his travels, but he listened to Shion’s stories and asked the right questions, and as the sweet smells of cooking ham and buttered bread wafted through the kitchen, Shion hoped they could make a lifetime out of this.


	22. Day 22: In Battle, Side-by-Side

“I need your help.”

Nezumi glanced up from where he read one of Shion’s books from the couch. Well, one of his books. After Nezumi left, Shion took a few from their underground home, and according to him, the rest waited untouched for whenever Nezumi wanted them. For now, he pleased himself with the ones Shion kept in the apartment.

“With what?” Nezumi inquired. Shion stood in front of him, fidgeting nervously, and he wondered what the white-haired boy could possibly want from him. In this luxurious world of ease and comfort Nezumi’s skills counted for little.

“We finally raised the finances for another building project, and I secured the deed for a patch of land close to the gardens. I’ve been working for this project for years, but another committee is trying to hijack the plan to build a gymnasium instead. A gymnasium would be fine, but I have put in two years’ worth of effort to have my plan rejected now,” Shion explained in a rush.

“What is your plan exactly?” Nezumi asked.

Though he spoke so vehemently before, now Shion blushed and averted his eyes. “A theatre,” he mumbled. “I want to build a theatre like the one in West Block except better.”

Careful not to reveal any of his emotions show, Nezumi pushed, “And how do you think I can help? You have a far higher position than me.” He turned a page in his book, not because he was finished, but to make a point.

“No, but you know the value a theatre can have! No one knows more about it than you. Please, if we approach the committee together, I think we can convince them that a theatre will benefit our community more,” Shion insisted.

Nezumi mulled over Shion’s proposition. As much as he didn’t want to formally approach some committee, he definitely didn’t want a gymnasium of all things to replace a grand theatre. Honestly, did these people not care anything for the arts? Finally, one look in Shion’s big, pleading eyes made the decision.

The next day, Nezumi and Shion faced a panel of the reconstruction committee and the protest group that supported the gymnasium. Cold eyes regarded Nezumi especially with suspicion, and the suit Shion forced him to wear suddenly felt too hot.

Shion, however, seemed quite at home in his formal wear in the sights of so many official people. Then again, Nezumi supposed he had been doing things like this for the past four years.

“While I understand that a gymnasium would provide a place to exercise for our citizens, a theatre offers more than physical reward. I have asked my friend, Nezumi here today to explain the full extent of these benefits.” At this point Shion gestured to Nezumi, and he stepped up to the spotlight. The looks of their opponents were skeptical at best.

Nezumi took a deep breath. “A theatre offers something to everyone, not just those from fifteen to forty who have no physical disabilities. A theatre provides jobs and opportunities for those who don’t have typical skills, and a theatre continues to run even when tools and machines breakdown.

“However, more than anything, a theatre provides a spot of hope for society. The stories that are acted on the stage give the common people something to believe in and lessons to treasure. When times seem dark, the light of the arts still shines. A gymnasium may benefit temporarily, but the tributes of a theatre live on forever.”

The majority of the committee voted yes, and Nezumi and Shion bowed.


	23. Day 23: Arguing

Shion acted positively giddy when they finally reached the safety of home while Nezumi immediately started peeling off his dress jacket. Once Shion shut the door safely to their apartment, he exclaimed, “It worked! We’re going to have a theatre in No. 6. A proper theatre!”

Nezumi pulled his usual black and grey shirt over his head, the dress wear tossed on the arm of the couch. He hummed a vague noise that technically qualified as a response.

“And once it’s finished, you can get a job there as an actor. You can teach all of the other staff all about Shakespeare, and you can have your livelihood again,” Shion gushed. Amending himself, he added, “Of course, you don’t need a job if you don’t want one. I’m fine with supporting us as things are, but I just thought you might like acting again.”

Nezumi sighed as he slipped off his shoes. Somehow, he knew from the moment Shion brought up the theatre that this would happen, and now the inevitable conversation arrived. Before now, they managed to keep the atmosphere light and completely avoided talking about Nezumi’s abandonment. A brief time of bliss soon to end.

“A job at the theatre,” Nezumi mused. “You assume I’ll be here that long.”

Shion paused in his path of celebration and turned wary eyes to where Nezumi glanced out the window. “Yes… why wouldn’t you be?” he approached.

“You know why,” Nezumi challenged. He still avoided looking at Shion, preferring to stare at the streets below.

“No, I really don’t! I still don’t understand why you left the first time! I don’t understand why you left when we were twelve-years old. Why do you keep leaving, Nezumi?” Shion cried. Four years, possibly eight years, worth of despair and anger flooded his words, and when Nezumi finally turned to face the other boy, he thought he saw the beginnings of tears at the corners of his eyes.

Nezumi gave him his hardest glare even though he almost felt like crying himself. Why did he even insist on this argument? He actually did not plan on leaving anytime soon, for he felt relatively happy sharing this life with Shion. Certainly less lonely. But somehow, when Shion talked about Nezumi being here at the end of the building project, something that could last up to a year, he froze. The instincts that kept him alive for years suddenly rose to attention, and he felt the irrational desire to run as quickly as possible.

How could Nezumi explain that Shion’s comfort and trust in him felt too much like a cage?

“Shion, all that happened a long time ago,” Nezumi groaned.

“That doesn’t matter when you still apparently feel the same way,” Shion snapped back. His face flushed with exertion, and Nezumi never saw his eyes look so enraged. At least they did not have that deadened look that meant he was no longer Shion.

Nezumi sighed and then cursed himself. Never show that weakness to others. The old woman told him that. But this was Shion, so why would he need to protect himself from him…? Nezumi shook his head. The warnings of his past and the rules of his survival clashed with what he knew and loved about Shion.

He knew Shion meant him no harm. He got over his fears when he left to travel. Yet he still felt the hauntings of his doubts. The clashing ideals and thoughts warred in his heart until Nezumi barely knew his own thoughts from those others put in his head.

“I don’t feel…” Nezumi’s throat closed because he no longer knew the rest. Forgetting his shoes and his jacket, Nezumi left the apartment.


	24. Day 24: Making Up Afterward

Shion almost went after him, but he stared at the closed door, and he did not move for a very long time. He eventually made himself a cup of tea. And at some point he changed into pajamas. When he blinked once, he realized he sat on the coach with a mug of cold liquid in his hand. He did these things without any conscious decision.

He waited for Nezumi come back.

As he did when he was twelve years old.

As he did when he was sixteen.

Forever left behind. And forever waiting for Nezumi to decide if Shion was worth it.

Today was supposed to be a victory for them. They gave No. 6 a theatre, perhaps the first step to molding the city into a truly advanced society. They worked together for this. Shion never wanted it to become a fight, but they never did discuss Nezumi’s leaving before, and the bottled-up emotions suddenly exploded forward.

Shion only hoped he didn’t scare Nezumi away permanently.

He must have fallen asleep because he woke to the door opening. He forgot to turn on any lights in the apartment, so the night fell dark, and Shion didn’t even realize who entered the house until Nezumi flipped on a lamp.

As terrible as Shion felt, Nezumi looked it. His socks were stained with mud, and red outlined his eyes. They stared at each other for a long time before Nezumi broke the silence with a voice too scratchy to be his. “I am sorry I left. I don’t regret it, but I am sorry.”

Shion realized that Nezumi did not mean tonight, and he opened his mouth to reply, but Nezumi continued, “I told you that you scared me, and while some of that was true, I was also afraid of myself. What I was becoming. I relied on you way too much when I thought solitude meant survival. Now I’m starting to realize that I want to be with you. Around you. At your side. You at mine. Not because I can’t survive without you because I proved that I can. But just because I’m happier with you.”

Shion felt tears fall on his lap. “Nezumi… I never wanted to make you feel like you had to stay, but I’m so happy… so happy you want to be here.”

“I’m staying. Neither of us knows what will happen, but tonight and tomorrow and the next day, I’m staying.”

Nezumi closed the distance between them and sat down on the couch. Once he started to lean forward, neither could tell who kissed who first, but they collided mouth against mouth. Nezumi’s hands went to the small of Shion’s back, and Shion’s arms wrapped around Nezumi’s neck.

Then that absence of seconds started happening again because suddenly Nezumi lay on his back on the couch, and Shion realized he stretched across him. His leg slipped between Nezumi’s, and he ran his fingers through his hair, and their kissing did not stop even as the night grew darker and the only sounds in the apartment were their own subtle rustling.


	25. Day 25: Gazing into Each Other's Eyes

Eighteen months after Nezumi promised to stay, he once again stood in the spotlight on a stage. However, the experience was nothing like when he performed in West Block. The audience there mostly consisted of perverted men only interested in goggling Nezumi’s body in a sheer dress, and the stage practically rotted as he strode across it.

This theatre incorporated all the class of Shakespeare and all the regality of Old England with the added newness of the technology of No. 6. Grand pillars guarded the aisles and seats draped in red velvet sat row after row in the expansive auditorium. The stage itself gleamed with its polish, and the props almost cost more than the objects they represented. Even the sound system was so updated that Nezumi could whisper and be heard from the very back.

Tonight was the grand opening of the Eve Theatre with a screening of Shakespeare’s play Hamlet. While Nezumi played Ophelia as he always did, the name Eve did not replace his on the program.

Shion offered the use of a stage name, but Nezumi turned him down.

“Why bother? I might as well have a career in which I can use my actual name,” he told him at the time.

So Shion insisted on using ‘Eve’ as the name of the theatre. Nezumi actually didn’t mind, for though he never told anyone, the name Eve came from his baby sister. Nezumi did not know her long, for she died in the fire that took his parents and his home, but he took her memory. He used her name to do one of the things he actually enjoyed, but now he did not feel like he had to keep such a tight hold on her.

He could be himself as he acted on stage and still honor his sister’s memory. She and the rest of the forest people.

Much to Nezumi’s surprise, quite a crowd came to the theatre’s opening night. He did not expect those of No. 6 to have such good taste immediately, for he thought he would be training them to enjoy the arts. Nevertheless, there was some excitement in seeing a full house. The other actors exchanged anxious glances, but Nezumi did not take part. He never doubted his own ability to perform well.

Besides, Shion was somewhere in the crowd, along with Karan and Inukashi and of course Rikiga, and he wanted to give them all a good show. Not that he ever offered anything less on the stage.

The opening lines signaled silence across the crowd, and Nezumi recognized the awe that lit up their faces. Something special illuminated the magic of discovering good art for the first time.

Reassured of his role, Nezumi took his queue. He used the right tone with all the needed inflection, and he put so much soul into his work that anyone watching was convinced that Ophelia pranced out of a dead man’s words and graced the stage herself.

Nezumi never broke character, but he did seek out a certain mop of white hair in the crowd. Those red eyes found his immediately, and he beamed with such utter affection that for a moment Ophelia’s smile looked a bit like Nezumi’s.


	26. Day 26: Getting Married

Shion first mentioned it. In passing. Two men applied for a marriage license, and after a brief meeting in that particular office of the government, they received it. No scandal, no violent protests. They got married and started their lives together.

Shion told Nezumi about it over breakfast and relayed that such an act would have been illegal in the previous No. 6. He gushed over all the progress they had made. Then Nezumi asked for him to pass the milk, and conversation faded to another topic.

Later, Nezumi joked that he was practically a housewife since the theatre only performed shows on Fridays and Saturdays. Shion immediately sputtered that he did not see Nezumi that way at all and that Shion only made up for the many months he depended on Nezumi in West Block and that Nezumi did not have to do anything he did not want to, but Nezumi quickly cut him off with a kiss. “Relax, Shion. I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

A month after that, they ate dinner with Karan. Since Karan complained that she missed them, Shion and Nezumi made a point to either take her out or come for a meal at least once every two weeks. Tonight Karan made stew and rice and, naturally, bread.

She asked about each of their lives which resembled the other too closely to require two different questions. She scolded Shion for working such long hours even though he cut back considerably once Nezumi returned. Then she complimented Nezumi’s performance as Blanche in A Streetcar Named Desire, and they discussed the benefits and drawbacks of Tennessee Williams versus William Shakespeare.

Everything seemed rather usual until Karan commented, “A few people in the shop have asked me about the beautiful actor who performs so passionately at the Eve Theatre. Some wondered where they could send gifts, and I informed that there was really no point. I was correct in saying that, wasn’t I?” Her innocent smile could not quite mask her scheming eyes.

Shion and Nezumi exchanged uneasy glances before kindly guiding the conversation away from the arts.

Barely a few days later, they kissed gently in bed as they often did right before slipping into sleep, and Nezumi whispered against his lips, “You know, Your Highness, the universe seems to be offering us signs. Are you waiting for something as tradition as my getting down on one knee?”

Eyes shooting wide open, Shion blurted out, “Please marry me, Nezumi!”

Nezumi startled a little, but a smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Rather bold, Your Majesty,” he teased.

“I-I wanted to ask for so long, but I did not know if you wanted to, and I was afraid to approach the subject, and you didn’t seem to respond when I did, and I just…” Shion’s sputtering turned him bright red, and Nezumi laughed.

“Shion, we’re married in all but a license, but I think we better correct that before we give your mother gray hairs,” he said.

The next day, Shion picked up a marriage license. When they found out, Karan cried, and Inukashi smirked. Rikiga shook his head and fretted that Eve ruined his darling Shion.

They decided to forgo the big wedding and instead celebrated with cherry cake and hot chocolate in Karan’s shop with everyone. And when they left, they returned to their apartment. Their shared apartment.


	27. Day 27: On One of Their Birthdays

Nezumi woke up to lips on his, and he smiled against Shion’s mouth. “Your majesty, I believe you have this backward. I kiss you on your birthday,” he teased. Somehow though, Nezumi did not mind when Shion straddled his hips, their sheets wrapped around them both.

“This is more than just my birthday,” Shion chided. “I met you nine years ago exactly.” He kissed him again for celebration, and his enthusiasm might have kept them from getting out of bed for a long time if Nezumi had not remembered his plans.

“Okay, no, get up. Restrain yourself,” Nezumi ordered. He gently pushed Shion away, and the other boy reluctantly climbed out of bed. Nezumi followed him and tied his hair back. “Your mother wants us to meet her at the bakery at nine.”

Shion seemed to brighten at the mention of his mother, but Nezumi knew he still wanted to stay in bed. Nevertheless, Nezumi dressed nice and made sure Shion dressed as well, and they walked to the bakery in the warm September air. Summer faded in a lingering warmth while autumn only thought of returning to the city. Children rode bikes down the sidewalk, and gently-smiling workers opened up their shops and trekked to work.

Simple moments like this reminded Nezumi of why he decided to return, and when Shion took his hand, he remembered why he stayed. While a few shot them dirty looks, most of the citizens accepted them and only wondered how they met.

Shion once told him that Nezumi was a bit of a hot topic of No. 6. Some remembered him from when he talked Elyurias into giving them a second chance, but after he disappeared, he returned a stranger. Others recalled him as Eve, but even those from West Block barely recognized him without either a dress or the leather jacket. Altogether, his identity generated a lot of gossip, but Nezumi brushed it off, and Shion only found the whole thing amusing.

When they arrived, Karan greeted them both with hugs and cheek kisses, and the scent of warm pastries lured them inside. Three cherry cakes waited for them along with Inukashi, Rikiga, and baby Shion.

Rikiga enveloped Shion in a huge hug, and Inukashi punched him affectionately in the arm. While they all fussed around Shion, congratulating him and asking him about work and life, Nezumi drifted to the side and helped little Shion build a castle from wooden blocks. They created two towers, a working gate, and a moat by the time they finished with Shion long enough to eat.

Shion occasionally shot him apologetic looks, but Nezumi did not mind sharing him. The others wanted to dote on him on his birthday, and Nezumi did not mind.

After all, as soon as Nezumi got them both home, he would have his own way with Shion. Or rather, Shion would have his way with him. Nezumi did promise something special for his birthday.

So even while Karan, Inukashi, and Rikiga dominated Shion’s attention for now, Nezumi only smiled to himself as he nibbled at his cake. As Shion said, nine years ago they shared a bed in which Shion took mercy on Nezumi and offered him comfort and warmth. Now they shared a bed for an entirely different reason.

Then again, maybe not entirely.


	28. Day 28: Doing Something Ridiculous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of important notes. One, I am taking a lot of liberties with this. I assumed No. 6 the city is mostly Japanese since that's the origin of the story, and since there are five other cities, I'm guessing there are other ethnicities of various populations there. I'm also making the assumption that after the devastating wars, not a lot of culture survived, but some did, and that included religions which included religious holidays. Basically, I'm making a lot of assumptions here, so please don't take anything too seriously.
> 
> Another note, this story idea came from my two best friends. One of them knows of this girl who has pet rats, and she dressed her rats in Christmas sweaters, and yeah, we immediately thought of Nezumi's reaction to when Shion just named his rats.

One of the influences Shion made as head chairman of the reconstruction committee was bringing back the holidays. No. 6 celebrated the Holy Day, of course, but since that anniversary reminded the citizens more of corruption and death than something worth smiling over, Shion let that one die.

Instead, he adapted one of the traditions from the other five city-states: Christmas. The tradition began in No. 2 and No. 3 where a strong Christian influence brought about the holiday. The other cities liked the high morale the tradition presented, and every city eventually fell into the hype except for No. 6. The mayor did not want anything distracting from the Holy Day.

Now, however, Shion wanted the citizen of No. 6 to feel safe and happy to celebrate, so as they approached December 25, he shipped in the trees and the holly and poinsettias. He directed fairy lights to be hung all over town and in the gardens. He encouraged gift-giving, and he talked his mother into baking every recipe she had that involved cinnamon, pumpkin, or apple.

The first year turned out awkward and unsure, but by the third year, the citizens embraced the tradition whole-heartedly. Nezumi joined Shion on the fifth anniversary of their new old holiday, and while he seemed skeptical about the whole thing, he seemed to like how excited Shion tended to be when he talked about it.

At least until he came home to find various surprises.

First, it was the popcorn strings. Nezumi just returned home after rehearsals at the theatre – thanks to Shion, he now actually had to work to memorize lines to some sort of Christmas musical – and he found Shion teetering on a small ladder as he worked to pin ropes of popcorn on the ceiling. Nezumi dumped his stuff on the kitchen table and sighed.

“What are you doing?”

Shion never missed a beat. “It’s another Christmas tradition! I don’t know why, but they run thread through bits of popcorn and hang them places.”

Nezumi decided he did not want to pursue that conversation, and he only watched and occasionally offered his opinion on where the next strand should go.

A few days later, he found Shion hanging pairs of his pants on the window. Nezumi almost left the house without even asking, but against his better judgment, he posed the inevitable question. “Shion, what the actual hell are you doing?”

“Another Christmas tradition involves hanging clothes on mantels,” Shion gushed. “You don’t wear these much anymore, so I thought they would work. I’m hanging up my blue cardigan as well.”

At that point Nezumi poured himself a glass of eggnog that was half alcohol.

The breaking point occurred on Christmas Eve after Nezumi’s performance at the theatre. Nezumi played along with the holiday and bought Shion a present, wrapped it, and placed it under the tree. He even helped Shion bake cookies for a fat man they all knew would not come through the ventilation shaft. Nevertheless, they shared hot cocoa and listened to music about sleighs and reindeer, and Nezumi really did not understand this holiday.

Then he caught sight of his rats, and his heart sunk. Their three little heads poked out from wool monstrosities of red and green.

“Dude don’t put my rats in Christmas sweaters!”


	29. Day 29: Doing Something Sweet

They should have known this would happen eventually. Nezumi adapted to impossible circumstances when he worked in West Block because his survival depended on it. But after four years of traveling with no one but himself for company, his voice did not quite keep up the same capability that it had in his days of theatre shows every night.

Normally, he still managed well enough. Eve Theatre only put on shows on Fridays and Saturdays, and the rehearsals did not tax his voice since they mostly practiced inflection and movements rather than projection. Really, he could not have asked for a better work schedule.

Then Christmas came, and Nezumi was beginning to hate this holiday because the theatre decided to put on the Christmas musical every single night for the week leading up to December 25. Naturally, he played the lead female role with the most singing parts.

He performed well, as he never did anything less, and some even claimed the final performance on Christmas day was his very best. Nezumi bitterly thought that it better have been, for it stole his voice. The day after Christmas, he woke up with nothing but raspy wheezes in the place of words, and his throat felt like he swallowed fire.

Horrorstruck and irrationally angry, Nezumi shot out of bed and rushed to the bathroom. He opened his mouth wide, but he couldn’t quite peer into his mouth, and even if he could, he had no idea how seeing evidence of his lost voice would help anything. Now even more irrationally angry, he trudged into the kitchen where Shion already made coffee.

“Good morning,” he greeted cheerily. He brought down two Christmas-themed mugs from the cabinet, and Nezumi sneered. “What’s wrong?”

Nezumi pointed to his neck.

“Are you sick? Does your throat hurt?”

Nezumi glared at him with all his might, but when Shion still did not seem to catch on, he opened his mouth and gestured to where no words presented themselves.

“Oh, I see. I guess seven shows in a row is tough,” Shion realized. His eyes softened with sympathy, and he poured extra cream in Nezumi’s cup before adding the steaming coffee. He gave the remedy to the other with a smile and said, “At least you’re off work for a while. So am I. We can enjoy today.

Nezumi made a grunt of disapproval that was not worth the effort because his throat burned even more afterward. At least the hot coffee soothed it some.

“Come on, I have an idea,” Shion proposed.

A few moments later found the two cuddled on the couch. Nezumi steadily sipped from his cup and then Shion’s when his ran out. Shion retrieved his copy of The Canterbury Tales, and he read them out loud since Nezumi could not.

Nezumi thought about pointing out to Shion that his lost voice did not impact his ability to read, but Shion’s voice was almost as soothing as the warm coffee, so he leaned his head against Shion’s chest and closed his eyes. He let the century-old poetry carry him away with Shion’s heartbeat close to his own.

Maybe Christmas was not so bad.


	30. Day 30: Doing Something Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On this chapter: I'm sorry. I know this isn't even very graphic, but I blushed so hard even as I just wrote this. This is not my forte, and I'm just going to apologize in advance if it's not up to par.
> 
> In general: I want to thank everyone who has read this story! The support, the comments, and the kudos meant the world to me!

Shion did not like taking his shirt off, and this was something Nezumi noticed when their make out sessions grew longer and more intense, yet they still remained fully clothed. Nezumi understood that he was more experienced than the virginal white-haired boy, but surely Shion at least knew that clothing tended to provide a barrier for more pleasurable things.

At first Nezumi thought Shion was only nervous and hesitant about taking that next step, but he quickly realized the flaws in this theory when Shion practically attacked him at times. He left more love marks than Nezumi managed, and Shion instigated their sessions more often than not.

He moaned and wiggled closer when Nezumi slid his hands up his shirt, but as soon as he started to lift the fabric, Shion froze. He tried to distract Nezumi by kissing in other places, but he could not hide the fact that he wriggled away from Nezumi’s attempts to undress him.

Nezumi never wanted to push him into anything he didn’t want, but the mixed signals confused him. Shion obviously didn’t mind his touch. Perhaps the vulnerability of being naked bothered him?

At first Nezumi convinced himself that this was a good thing. If he restrained from going too far with Shion, he always had the option of running away if the need arose. However, things had changed between them. The domesticity of living together, their dual jobs in the same city, and even sweet moments like Shion reading to him when he lost his voice all attributed to this growing warm feeling in Nezumi’s heart.

He loved Shion, truly deeply with all the emotions that the poets described, loved him. And Nezumi wanted to show him.

So the next time they stole a moment alone in the bed they now shared in the apartment they lived in together, Nezumi once again reached for his night shirt, and Shion again started kissing his neck and grasping at the small of his back in a distraction. Instead of following his lead as he usually did, Nezumi pulled back enough to whisper, “Shion, are you scared?”

The midnight moon through the curtains provided the only light in the room, but Nezumi still noticed the shocked expression pass over Shion’s features. “Of course not. I’m never afraid of you,” Shion assured him. He made a dive for Nezumi’s lips, but Nezumi held him by his shoulders in place.

“Then why won’t you let me undress you?”

The words blew away all pretense, and Shion bit his lip in shame. “My scars,” he mumbled, almost too quiet to hear. “I don’t want you to have to see my scars. Especially not if we make love.”

Understanding washed over Nezumi in a cool wave, and he closed his eyes briefly before lowering his mouth. He did not miss the small shocked noise that escaped Shion’s lips when he kissed the red mark on his cheek rather than his mouth. “Shion, there is nothing about you that could ever repulse me,” he murmured against his skin.

“Nezumi, you don’t have to prove anyth- ah!” Shion writhed beneath Nezumi’s touch as the others kissed lower and lower, always tracing the red marks around his body.

“What am I proving? Did I not tell you that I found your scar alluring? Though now I must correct myself and admit that everything about you is alluring.”

Nezumi successfully removed Shion’s shirt and every other article of clothing, and he littered every portion of his scar with kisses and affection. Even more so, Nezumi showed him just what his aversion to undressing had been preventing before.

When the sun rose with the gentle light of a new day, the two boys curled into each other’s warmth. Nezumi planted a chaste kiss on Shion’s nose.

“Is that a ‘sexy aftermath’ kiss?” Shion mumbled sleepily.

Nezumi smiled. “It’s an ‘I love you’ kiss.”


End file.
